After Tokyo, I did not have months to reset. I had six weeks.

That is not a long time in marathon training. It is barely enough time to recover properly, let alone rebuild, sharpen up, and ask the body to go again over 42.2 kilometres. But Canberra was there on the calendar, and after everything Tokyo taught me, I wanted another shot.

Not because I needed redemption. More because I wanted a chance to respond.

Tokyo was one of the toughest races I have run. The cramps, the stomach issues, the heat, the watch dying, all of it turned the day into a physical and mental battle. I learned a lot from it, but I also left knowing I could do better. Not in some dramatic, beat-myself-up kind of way. Just in an honest way. I knew there were things I could improve, things I could tighten up, and little decisions that could make a big difference.

That is what Canberra became. A six-week lesson in adjustment.

The biggest challenge going in was the short turnaround. A marathon takes a lot out of you, even when it goes well. When it does not, it can leave a mark that lingers longer than you expect. The first thing I had to do was respect that. Recovery had to come before ambition. Easy runs mattered. Stretching mattered. Sleep mattered. The body needed to feel safe again before I could ask it to push.

At the same time, I had this sore heel hanging around. Not enough to stop me, but enough to keep reminding me that things were not perfect. That became part of the mental challenge too. Every runner knows how easy it is to become overly focused on one niggle. You feel one sore spot and suddenly your brain starts writing the whole race story before it has even happened. I had to keep bringing myself back to the same thought: manage it, do not magnify it.

So I kept doing the little things. Stretching. Mobility. Core work. Looking after the body instead of just demanding more from it. The heel was still there in Canberra, but it was manageable. It became background noise, not the main event.

One of the biggest wins from this block was fueling. Tokyo taught me very clearly that when fueling goes wrong, the whole race can unravel. This time, the gels sat much better. That changed everything. Energy felt more stable. My stomach stayed calm. I was not fighting nausea or second-guessing every feed. It sounds small, but it is huge. When your gut is settled, your head settles too. You are free to actually run the race in front of you instead of managing a problem every few kilometres.

Canberra itself is not an easy course. The hills make sure of that. It is the kind of marathon that keeps asking questions. There are no long sections where you can completely switch off and get a free ride. You have to stay engaged. You have to keep running the course that is there, not the one you wish it was.

But the weather gave us a gift. Cool, a light breeze, just about perfect marathon conditions. That made a real difference. It felt like one less thing to fight.

I also learned a lesson the day before the race, and it is one I probably already knew but needed to be reminded of. Do not play tourist the day before a marathon.

That was harder than it sounds.

When you travel for a race, especially somewhere like Canberra where there is always something to see or do, it is tempting to wander, explore, keep moving, and tell yourself it is all harmless. But all that walking adds up. Time on your feet is still time on your feet. This time, I made a conscious effort to sit down more, rest more, and protect the legs. It was not glamorous, and it was not exciting, but it mattered. Sometimes the smartest race prep looks boring from the outside.

That theme really summed up the whole race for me. Better, smarter, stronger. Not reckless. Not emotional. Just more mature.

And when I crossed the line in 3:15, that is what it felt like.

A PB in this new era.

That matters to me. Not because I am trying to beat the younger version of myself at every turn, but because it shows that this version of me is still improving. Still learning. Still capable of finding another level.

On a hilly course, with a sore heel still hanging around, just six weeks after Tokyo, that time means a lot.

What made it even better was having Brendan there. Support matters in ways that are hard to explain unless you have lived it. Marathon training can be selfish at times. It takes early mornings, long runs, tired afternoons, and a lot of energy. To have someone beside you through all of that, and then there on race day too, means more than the splits and stats can ever show.

Looking back now, Canberra did not feel like a miracle race. It felt like a smart race. A steady race. A race built on lessons actually being used.

And maybe that is the bigger takeaway.

Improvement is not always about doing more. Sometimes it is about doing things better. Recovering better. Fueling better. Resting better. Respecting the little details that seem boring until they save your race.

Tokyo showed me where things can fall apart. Canberra showed me how much can go right when I pay attention.

And the exciting part is, I still feel like there is more there.

That is the feeling I am leaving this race with. Not relief. Not satisfaction in a final sort of way.

Hunger.

A good kind of hunger.

The kind that says, keep going. Keep building. Keep learning.

Because 3:15 on a course like that, with a six-week turnaround, is something I am proud of.

But I also know it is not the end of the story.

Tip of the Week
The day before a race, save your steps. Sitting down is not lazy. It is strategy. Every bit of energy you save the day before is energy you can use when it matters.

Next up
Recover the heel, absorb the race, and keep building.

There is still more in the tank, and I am hungry for more.

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